


You Live In Us

by NeverlandPixie



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27489892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverlandPixie/pseuds/NeverlandPixie
Summary: Julia stands up and gently makes him stand too. He still can’t look her in the eyes but he watches as she pulls back the duvet and then ducks his head when she looks at him. “Come on, lay down.” He doesn’t protest, simply does what she asked. He thinks she’s going to pull the covers back over him and then leave the room, and he’ll be alone again. But instead she climbs in next to him and pulls the covers over both of them and carefully wraps her arm around him. They’re almost nose to nose and she gives him a tiny, gentle smile and brushes his hair out of his face. “Sleep, Quentin. We’ll all be here when you wake up.”Or, Quentin is really sad. And scared.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	You Live In Us

**Author's Note:**

> This might look familiar. I’ve posted this before in a multi chapter story that are a bunch of drabbles, but looking through them again, a few of them deserve to be their own stand alone stories.

Quentin Coldwater wishes he was somewhere else. Wishes his hands would stop shaking. Wishes he could fucking walk downstairs and make eye contact with his friends. _Friends_. The word makes bile rise in his throat and for a split second, a second that lasts forever, he thinks of the sleeping pills in the bathroom. And then he’s reeling backwards until his head hits the headboard of the bed and his hands are shaking even harder. Because how _selfish, how goddamn selfish._

He closes his eyes but immediately wrenches them open because the images he sees are worse then real life, even though real life is just as bad. He draws his knees to his chest and clasps his hands together. He can hear the others talking downstairs. It’s muffled but he can make out each and every voice, can tell they’re talking about Alice. And for a moment anger washes away fear and sadness because he doesn’t want to think about how Alice betrayed them but how the fuck can he not? 

_It’s not fair_ , he thinks bitterly. And then the anger is swept out to sea and he’s crying because again, he’s _selfish_. He could have it so much worse. He could be like Eliot, who came so close to death that he could’ve kissed it, who will now forever have to live with what he did. Or Margo, a High King who might not even have a kingdom to go back too. Or Julia, who has to process the fact that she’s been raped for the second goddamn time. 

And he’s upstairs, crying, shaking, panicking, because a day into being Quentin Coldwater again, it washed over him like a bucket of ice water and it melded into veins and it hasn’t left. _They forgot him._

His friends _forgot_ him. 

And he wants to reach up and hit at the sides of his head because _selfish, selfish, selfish_. Because he forgot them right back. Because he could have it so much worse. But it’s his biggest fear in the whole fucking world, being forgotten. Ever since he was young and the IT miniseries he and Julia had begged her mother to let them watch when they found the DVD gave him a panic attack that had him vomiting outside on the sidewalk. And it wasn’t because of the clown. It wasn’t because of the horror. It wasn’t because of the death. It was because the kids who were supposed to be friends grew up and forgot each other. That was day Quentin Coldwater truly realized what fear was. But he thought he was okay. Because he had Julia. And Julia wasn’t just his best friend, Julia was his platonic soulmate. Even when they weren’t talking, she still remembered him. And he knows she missed him just as much as he missed her. He wouldn’t be like the kids in IT, because he would never have to look his worst fear in the eyes. 

Except then he did. And maybe, like the kids in IT, he had beat it. But did he really? Because by himself in this bedroom he feels like he’s lost. And he’s _alone, alone, alone_. And then he’s sobbing, loud body wracking sobs. Then the door opens and he wants to scream at whoever it is to go away. To let him wallow, because he deserves this. Because he’s _selfish, selfish, selfish_. 

But Julia’s presence is too warm and familiar for him to do that and so when she sits on the bed and wraps her arms around him, he tucks his head in the nape of her neck and cries, and holds on to her like if he doesn’t, she’ll disappear into thin air. “I’ve got you, Q, I’ve got you.” 

When he finally calms down enough to breathe, he pulls away from her and guilt fills him up even more when he sees the red around her eyes and how absolutely exhausted she looks. “Quentin, what happened?” 

He shakes his head and moves to sit on the edge of the bed, putting his hands between his knees and leaning forward, trying to curl into himself as much as he can. She follows him, crawling over and sitting on her knees. “Q..” 

He winces and feels another sob work it’s way into his throat but he swallows it down. “We forgot.” He feels her hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades. “I forgot all of you. You all forgot me.” 

There’s silence for a moment before she lets out a breath of realization. “Oh.” He wants to to run, wants to lock himself in the bathroom because she’s going to tell him there’s bigger things to worry about right now, that this is ridiculous because it could be so much worse, that they don’t have time to deal with his bullshit, and he’s _selfish, selfish, selfish_. 

That’s what she should say. But instead she climbs off the bed and kneels in front of him. “Oh, Quentin.” And then she’s pulling his hands from between his knees and cupping his large hands between her much smaller ones and she’s looking at him with such understanding and tenderness that he can’t help but start crying again. She simply lets him, and when he stops she lets go of his hands and reaches up to wipe his tears with her thumbs. “It’s okay, Quentin. It’s okay.” And he wants to disagree, wants to open his mouth and tell her it’s not because this is stupid, this is bullshit. But before he can, she’s speaking again. “We’re all going through it, right now. What we’re feeling is valid, Quentin, it really is. You’re valid, Q. Even though I know you think it’s stupid, that you probably think you’re selfish, you aren’t, you really truly aren’t.” And he almost wants to laugh because they’ve only been themselves again for a day, but it’s like nothing between them has changed, she can still practically read his mind. 

She stands up and gently makes him stand too. He still can’t look her in the eyes but he watches as she pulls back the duvet and then ducks his head when she looks at him. “Come on, lay down.” He doesn’t protest, simply does what she asked. He thinks she’s going to pull the covers back over him and then leave the room, and he’ll be alone again. But instead she climbs in next to him and pulls the covers over both of them and carefully wraps her arm around him. They’re almost nose to nose and she gives him a tiny, gentle smile and brushes his hair out of his face. “Sleep, Quentin. We’ll all be here when you wake up.” 

When he’s half asleep, he feels Julia intertwine their fingers. “Q?”

He makes a humming noise in response to let her know he’s listening. “We didn’t forget each other, not really. They took out memories, rearranged them, but they couldn’t rearrange our hearts, or our souls, and maybe my mind didn’t remember you, but my heart and soul did. A piece of you lives in me Quentin Coldwater, lives in all of us.” She squeezes his hand tightly. “We’ve got you Quentin, and we’re never letting you go.” 

When he finally falls asleep, he doesn’t dream, but there’s no nightmares, either. 

* * *

In the morning, Julia is gone and he panics for a minute until he hears the muffled conversation downstairs. He gets out of bed and changes his clothes before taking in a deep, albeit shaky breath and walking downstairs. Josh and Penny are lounging on a sofa, laughing about something. Kady, Margo, and Julia are in the kitchen talking and Julia is making breakfast. There’s a different feeling between Margo and Julia, and he can’t tell what it is until Margo smiles at her and Julia smiles right back. Ironic that it took all of this for them to finally become friends. When she notices him she gives him a small smile and he does his best to smile back. 

And then he sees Eliot, alone on the small loveseat, staring at the television but not watching. He’s paler then he usual is, and his curls are greasy and knotted but all Quentin can think is _beautiful, beautiful, beautiful_. 

As if he can feel him looking, Eliot’s eyes flick over to Quentin’s and immediately tears are making their way into the older mans eyes and for a minute, time seems to stop. but then Josh snorts at something Penny said and Margo says the food is ready and everything starts up again. While the others gather around the kitchen table, Quentin walks to where Eliot sits and balances himself on the arm chair. “What are we watching?”

It takes Eliot a few minutes to respond, but it’s okay, he doesn’t mind. He’d wait forever if he had too. “...Project runway.” His voice is raspy from not being used, or maybe from all the screaming he had done, but a genuine smile tugs at Quentin’s lips because he didn’t need a reminder that this is really Eliot, that the monster is gone from his body, but it was nice to have it anyway.

He knows Eliot doesn’t feel good, knows he’s nauseous and sick and sore from what they had to do to get the monster out of him, knows he’s in no mood to make an effort. So, when he slides his hands up to where Quentin’s rests and intertwines their fingers, and mumbles, “Missed you.” Quentin’s heart swells in chest and he wants to cry, but he doesn’t. Eliot didn’t turn to him, at all, during the interaction, but it’s okay, because he can wait. 

Julia brings him a few pieces of bacon and he gives her a grateful smile. She kisses his forehead before walking back to the table and sitting in between Kady and Penny. He watches them for a few minutes before his eyes move back to Eliot. And he feels _warm, warm, warm._

Because maybe they forgot each other. Maybe they forgot him. 

But they remembered, and that’s what matters most. 

He leans down and kisses the top of Eliot’s head, closing his eyes and inhaling. “Missed you too, El. Missed you so much.” 

Eliot only squeezes his hand tighter in response, but it’s enough for Quentin. Julia had told him that a piece of him lives in all of them, and if that’s true, then he’s damn sure that a piece of each of them lives in him too. 

And he’s still afraid, still sad. And there’s so much ahead of them, so many future battles, and his chest still aches, and he knows that last night wasn’t the end of the horrible feeling of facing your biggest fear. 

But he’s not alone. 

And for now, that’s enough. 

He squeezes Eliot’s hand and Eliot weakly squeezes back. Margo says something snarky that has everyone at the table laughing and Josh is humming and they’re all talking at once. And it’s enough.

It’s _more_ than enough.


End file.
